


Eudaemonic

by notjustmom



Series: Words, Words, Words [68]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, First Kiss, Johnlock Fluff, M/M, first time implied, flufffffffffy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-19
Updated: 2015-12-19
Packaged: 2018-05-07 14:58:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5460602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustmom/pseuds/notjustmom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>eudaemonic: adjective: ˌyo͞odəˈmänik: conducive to happiness</p><p>mid 19th century: from Greek eudaimonikos, from eudaimōn ‘happy’</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eudaemonic

"Are you happy?" John murmured as he fell asleep.

"Hmmmm." Sherlock nodded as he pressed his lips to the top of John's head and realized with a bit of a jolt that it was the first time anyone had ever asked him if he were happy. Wide awake now, he attempted to analyze the eudaemonic warmth that rushed through him. He wished he could just let it be, allow this moment of stillness to be enough, but his mind wanted to understand it, needed to tear it apart, test it, turn it into something rational, logical.

Perhaps, it was contentment? After all this time, of needing the adrenaline rush of puzzles, chases, general chaos, and if he were honest, madness; John had, in one instant, given him a safe place to land. 

 

It wasn't even after a case, when it happened earlier that day, just a normal day, no clients, no texts from Lestrade, he was bored, frankly, and it was the beginning of the 'silly season.' 

"Get dressed." John grinned at him.

"Why?" he grumped, and rolled over on the couch.

"We're getting a tree."

"A tree?"

"It's Christmas, and I want a tree, and ornaments and fairy lights, and I want to bake biscuits..."

"Did you suffer a concussion, John?"

"Go on, it will be fun."

"Fun?"

John knelt by the couch and gently turned Sherlock's face towards him, and kissed him on the lips before he could say a word.

They looked at each other in silence for a moment, then another; John blinked and stood up slowly, backing away from the couch, suddenly unsure of everything. "I-uhm. Hmm. Sorry?"

"No. It's-" Sherlock got up and went to his bedroom and dressed quickly. He returned to the lounge to find John at the window.

"You said something about a tree?"

"I don't know why-"

"It's fine, John, interesting tactic, it worked, let's go?"

"It wasn't meant, I-uh-have been wanting to do that since, damn, probably since I first saw you."

"You mean?"

"Yes. I'm sorry, if you don't feel the same way, I can-"

"No. Stop. Please. I always thought you didn't do-"

"I don't, I haven't, but it seems I want to with you."

"Oh. Okay."

"Okay?"

"I need time to process, can we go do the Christmas-y stuff, and maybe when we get back, I'll be sorted out?"

"Sure. Yeah, hmmm...right, let's go."

 

They bickered over what type of tree to get, the sentimental nature of the season vs. consumerism, white versus coloured fairy lights, hot cocoa versus coffee; essentially they were still the same people they had been before the kiss.

They somehow managed to push the tree up the steps without damaging each other or the walls, got it standing upright enough, then collapsed on the couch, exhausted. 

"Ridiculous," John giggled.

"It was your idea," smirked Sherlock as he took John's face in his hands and kissed his cold, chapped lips.

John stopped giggling. "I-"

"Yes, John. God, yes."

"Good. Fine. Do you want to uhm, work on decorating the tree or go to bed with me?"

"Definitely decorate the tree...."

"Wh-"

"John, I'm kidding. Come 'ere."

Sherlock unwrapped John's scarf from around his neck, then placed his nose right in that spot, under his jaw which was relaxing a bit, and took a deep breath in. "I've always wanted to know what you smelled like right here."

John was speechless for a moment, before whispering: "What do I smell like?"

Sherlock murmured, "home. John, you smell like home."

 

Sherlock looked down at the man still asleep on his chest. "Yes, John, I am very happy. I didn't realize until now, but yes, love. I am happy." He kissed him once more and finally fell asleep.


End file.
